A pupil of Ustad Chaand Khan, Bano was born in 1935 in Delhi. She moved to Pakistan in 1952 where she started her career with Radio Pakistan. She married a landlord the same year at age 17, who promised her that he would support her endeavors in music. Her first public concert was in 1957 at the Lahore Arts Council.

Although she is known more for singing ghazals, particularly those of Faiz Ahmed                                                                                                                                                                            

‘Iqbal Bano will always have a special place in the hearts and minds of our family,’ says Salima Hashmi, the daughter of the legendary Pakistani poet Faiz, whose verses the late singer rendered most eloquently.

‘She was one of the greatest means of support and inspiration during General Zia’s dictatorship,’ says Hashmi, recalling that in 1985, when there was an unspoken ban on reciting Faiz’s revolutionary poetry, Bano dared and performed ‘Hum Dekheingay!’ to an ecstatic audience. ‘I still remember the repeated requests of the charged listeners for an encore from that evening,’ she says. The song later became her anthem, which she would sing in all of her concerts to the delight of her many admirers.

‘In fact,’ says Hashmi, ‘it was Bano who started singing Faiz’s poetry for the first time in 1981 at a time when the poet himself was in exile in Beirut.’

Conveying her family’s heartfelt sentiments on the sad news of Bano’s demise, Hashmi says, ‘we all feel like a member of our own family has died today.’

For his part, sitar player Nafees Ahmed remembers Bano’s humble nature and sweet affection with fondness. He recorded several sessions with her in the studios as well as for PTV. ‘Even though she was a star performer, she remained loving and affectionate. She knew how to make a co-performer play the tunes, even if they didn’t want it to be played that way,’ he says.

Artist Anwar Maqsood, who was also closely associated with the legendary singer, says that ‘no one will be able to forget her beautiful renditions, not only of Faiz’s poetry, but also Ghalib, Daagh and Nasir Kazmi.’

Maqsood points out that Bano’s talent lay not only in singing ghazals, but also in performing classical thumris. ‘Her command over the taal and sur of classical music was just perfect,’ he says. ‘Her passing is a great loss for us.’

Indeed, Bano will be missed both personally and professionally. Composer Arshad Mehmood, who worked closely with Bano during her recording sessions with the label EMI, recalls, ‘she was such a thorough professional, always very particular about what she was doing. I would enjoy watching her perform in the studio.’

Mehmood adds that ‘people like her didn’t sing out of compulsion, they sang because of a true passion for the arts.’ He recalls how, seven months ago, when she wasn’t keeping in good health, Bano declined to perform because she could not do justice to her voice. ‘She was a very good judge and would not settle for anything less than brilliance.’

And that brilliance is what will be missed most of all. As sitar player Ahmed puts it: ‘You know, before we would say that apart from Iqbal Bano, there’s no great ghazal singer left in Pakistan. But today, unfortunately, we can’t even say that anymore’.

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